Letters from the Past
by Ainyan
Summary: Kaidan discovers some mail that Shepard never quite managed to send.


Wandering around the Commander's quarters while she sat cross-legged on the bed, studying one of the weekly expense reports Traynor delighted in forwarding to her, Kaidan looked for some way to amuse himself. He could, he supposed, head back to the observation lounge to read one of the books Kasumi had left behind. Or, given the relative quiet as they traveled towards their next destination, he could probably hunt up Vega for a game of poker. But the idea of spending any time away from Shepard right now, with the battle for Earth looming ever closer, wasn't something he was willing to entertain. Finally, he moved to her desk, rooting through the stacks of datapads which were scattered about its gleaming surface. "Can I borrow one of these?" he asked, tilting his head to glance at her through the model ship case separating her work station from her living area.

"Huh?" Distracted from the numbers scrolling across the screen, Shepard was a moment in raising her head. Her green eyes were just a little glazed as they met his through the glass, and he felt his mouth twitch into a slow, easy smile that brought an echo to her own lips. They stared at each other for several humming moments before she dropped her gaze, clearing her throat and tugging at the loose collar of the oversized shirt that served her as a nightgown. "Oh, uh – yeah, sure. Just check it first and make sure whatever's on it isn't important. There're enough of them to spare." His gaze lingered on her for a moment longer, appreciating the sight of the woman – his woman – in her bed, looking rather rumpled even as she struggled with the tedium of business. Shaking his head to clear it of the thoughts that inevitably drifted to the forefront at the sight of her, he allowed his attention to fall back to the datapads. Thoughtfully, he picked up one with a purple case, thumbing it on.

_Dear Kaidan,_

_I've written and erased this letter a dozen times already. Maybe I'm not supposed to write it. I mean, you think I'm dead. I should be dead. I was dead – two years, three months, and sixteen days dead until they woke me up. Brought me back. Whatever they did. Maybe… maybe it's just best if I stay dead to you. I'm sure you've moved on. I hope you have; I don't want you tearing yourself up over me. You deserve to be happy. God knows one of us deserves to be happy._

_I don't know why I'm writing this. I just… I miss you. It was only a few months, but you… you got inside me. Before I met you, I had never entertained the thought of falling in love with another person. The job was my life. Is my life. Being a soldier, being N7, being a Spectre… it's what I am. What I'm supposed to be. There shouldn't be room for anything else in my life – but you found it, that little corner of me that I didn't know existed._

_Hell. I've made leaders and warlords bow to my demands. I made Saren see the error of his ways. So why can't I find the words to tell you what I need to say? Or maybe… maybe I just can't say them. Not now. Not after…_

_Hell. Kaidan…_

Barely aware of himself, Kaidan moved to the couch, settling down upon it with an audible thump. Jarred out of her work by the movement and sound, Shepard raised her head, brow already furrowing in inquiry before she saw exactly what was in the major's hands. Dark skin paling slightly, she gave a strangled croak and lifted one hand in a futile gesture. "Kaidan," she began, then cut off when he lifted one finger to silence her. Her concentration blown, she tossed the datapad aside and instead dragged over a pillow, wrapping her arms around it as she pressed it into her lap, watching him with wary green eyes. He was aware of her scrutiny as he slowly thumbed at the pad, scrolling through the first letter, but he neither spoke nor glanced in her direction, lips moving slightly as he carefully read each and every word.

As he reached the end of the letter, he sat silent for a moment, studying the glowing text with an inscrutable expression, his free hand lying limp along the armrest of the couch. He could feel her steady gaze on him, was aware of the faint tension in the air, but his thoughts were too jumbled to frame an appropriate response just yet. Finally, he glanced up to meet her eyes, his brow furrowing slightly. "Why didn't you send this?" he finally asked, voice shattering the silence and causing her to jerk slightly, squeezing the pillow tighter as her eyes flickered from his face to the pad and back to his face.

"I – " She cut off as soon as he began, gnawing at her bottom lip as she tore her gaze from his, eyes wandering everywhere but him. "I don't know," she finally sighed, dropping her chin atop the pillow as she finally looked back to him, lips curving downward in an unhappy line. "It never felt right. I thought…" She trailed off, then made an abortive gesture with one hand towards the datapad. "I figured you'd moved on. Why dredge up old memories when you had new ones to make?" His expression offered her no indication of his feelings on the subject, and she winced slightly. "Hey," she added with forced cheerfulness, borrowing one of his favorite words, "it's water under the bridge, right? Let me find you a clean datapad and…" Once again, however, he forestalled her attempts to distract him with that single, uplifted finger, and she fell silent as he thumbed his way to the next letter. Flinching, she buried her face in the pillow, unwilling to watch this shuttle crash happen.

_Alenko,_

_I have no idea what to say to you._

_That's a lie. But what I want to say to you isn't fit for your official mail, so I'll just have to find a way to say it without all those lovely words Jack would be proud of._

_What you said on Horizon can't be easily forgiven. I get that you're angry. I don't even blame you for being angry – I should have told you I was alive. I just… how do you tell someone something like that? I figured… I guess I figured you'd gotten on with your life. It didn't seem right to drag up old ghosts – even when that old ghost is me._

_But damn you, Kaidan Alenko, __**I'm still me**__. Cerberus may have brought me back to life – may have given me a purpose when the Alliance and the Council ignored the need, but that doesn't mean I'm with them! You were there with me when we saw what they did to those soldiers, to those people, to Admiral Kahoku. How could you believe for one instant that I'd stoop to such tactics? I need them to save these people from the Collectors, but I'm not a part of them. God knows I've told the Illusive Man to suck it often enough when he's made demands of me that I can't give in to._

_Fuck it. I'm still me, Kaidan. And damn it all, you're still fucking special to me. I think you always will be._

_Fuck it._

The soft rasp of skin on stubble sounded as Kaidan scratched thoughtfully at his chin, torn between amusement and irritation as he finished off the second letter. A glance over the edge of the datapad showed Shepard with her face buried in the pillow, and a worm of sympathy found its way through the frustration her letter had raised in him. "Shepard," he said gently, waiting until he saw the green gleam of her eyes above the pillow before he continued, "I'd say your friend Jack would be quite proud of you." He couldn't help but flick her a quick grin at the wince his comment elicited, though the expression quickly faded into contemplation as he turned his attention back to the datapad. Sighing, he thumb-scrolled the message, scanning it thoughtfully. "I can't really blame you for being pissed, I guess. But… well. I told you. Seeing you there, it shocked me. I'd heard you were alive, but I never really believed it. And there you were – working for Cerberus. Cerberus," he repeated distastefully, scowling briefly. "Hell of a wake-up call. I was sorry though," he added.

"I know," came the muffled reply, and he looked up to see that Shepard had once again buried her face in the pillow. "I'm sorry, too, for not telling you. I didn't think… I didn't think," she muttered, raising her head to stare defiantly at him. "I couldn't think. I woke up to alarms – to mechs trying to kill me. And I was just… on the go after that. I never really had a chance to consider my options until I was already sealed in the deal. Though," she added, with just a hint of belligerence, "I don't know that I would have turned them down. The Council wouldn't help – I had to do something, and I didn't have time to play nice."

"I know. I can't blame you for doing what you did." Wisely, he stopped there, instead shifting his thumb over the slide-bar, noting that there was still one more message to go. He hesitated, trading his gaze between the distraught commander and the datapad – but as she made to move to stop him, he flicked the pad of his thumb against the screen, bringing up the last of the messages she'd never managed to mail to him.

_Dear Kaidan,_

_Don't you die on me! Not now, not when we've got a chance to set things right. Damn it. Damn you, Kaidan, you won't go down on my watch – on any watch if I have a say in it. You have to fight! You have to pull through. Do it for me. Or do it for yourself. Just do it._

_Oh God, Kaidan._

_Look. I don't know if you'll ever get this. I don't know if I'll ever send this. I can never seem to get around to sending you any mails that I write. But I have to get this out. It's been eating me since I saw… since I saw… since Mars._

_I love you._

_How is it three little words are so hard to type?_

_I shouldn't. It's a bad time – and I'm a bad deal. Every day it's something new – Cerberus, the Collectors, the Reapers… God only knows what it will be once we've dealt with Harbinger and his minions. People get hurt around me – people die around me. If I were half as smart as they say I am, I'd run as far away from you as I can. But I'm not smart, and I'm not leaving. You hear that? You can't shake me this time, Kaidan Alenko. So you get better, you hear? Get better so we can talk._

_I need to hear your voice._

_I need you._

Without a word, Kaidan set aside the datapad and pushed himself up from the couch, moving towards the bed. Shepard didn't lift her head from the pillow as she felt the mattress shift beneath her when he slid onto the bed. As his arms came around her, she gripped the cushion closer, then abruptly pushed it away, turning into him and sliding her arms around his torso. Her head came to rest on his shoulder and he pressed his cheek to hers, taking a single cleansing breath of her. "Kaidan," she murmured in a thick voice as she held him close. His arms tightened at the sound of his name on her breath and he tilted his head until he could look into her eyes. Their gazes locked for a breathless moment, then lips met lips in a kiss that should have been tender, but held too much desperation for gentleness.

"I love you." The words whispered against each other – his and hers, spoken at the same time, two voices made one in a simple declaration. With a sobbing laugh, she eased back, resting her forehead against his as her eyes slid closed. His fingers traced circles over her hips as he merely held her for a long moment, grateful for the opportunity to do just that. "Shepard?"

"Hmm?" came her lazy, husky reply, and he couldn't help but grin as she tilted her head slightly, brushing her lips along the corner of his mouth before making her way to trace his jawline; just a feather-light caress of her mouth on his skin that had a constant shiver running up his spine.

He took a moment to catch his breath after a swipe of her tongue over his earlobe made it shudder out unsteadily, and when her teeth replaced her tongue, he couldn't quite bite back a groan. Stubbornly, though: "Why didn't you just take the datapad from me? We both know you could ha-" Anything else he had to say was swallowed by her mouth as it returned for a long, hungry kiss.

"Yes," she said simply as she pulled back, her fingers already busy at the buttons of her night shirt, distracting him from anything but the task she clearly intended to set him to. "I could have." And if he had a retort, it was lost when the soft white cotton slid from her shoulders, pooling about her kneeling body as she gazed expectantly at him, one arching brow raised in inquiry.

Nothing more was said that night; nothing more needed to be said. As the hours stretched before them, they shared without words the love and the need that each felt for the other, for once – finally – in complete accord and unity.


End file.
